Stories for the damned
by I.am.Torra
Summary: They started out as one, one soul, one mind, one simple existence. And then they woke up. "One was Life One was Death It had not been decided by him. Whether they came to be so by the choice of Fate or Chance or God, this did not matter to him. Because it had not been so in the beginning." Sort of a Soulmate AU.


One was Life  
One was Death  
It had not been decided by him. Whether they came to be so by the choice of Fate or Chance or God, this did not matter to him. Because it had not been so in the beginning.  
It was not so when they were dust, born of dying stars and colliding galaxies, drifting amidst a thousand other souls, basking in the light of newborn suns  
There was no _him_ and there was no _her_ , there was just their existence, his awareness of it and no more. They were just one.

And then _they_ woke up.

Their first life is lonely.  
Ripped apart, no longer one, he howled at the sky and cursed the world he had been born in with words not yet invented. He raged from sunrise to sundown, his heart screaming for another. And as his arms grew, his eyes focused, his hair darkened, he grounded himself and decided to follow the storms and the wind, for it will lead him to what he seeks.  
And he finds her, in a field of drowsy poppies, her pale hair fanning behind her as she lunges at him, they share the same breath and the knots in his back ease beneath her careful hands. ( _but they do not become one. Not again, not ever. He grieves)_  
Among a sea of simple people, they already speak and fight and eat and _live_ (he thinks something is weird then, why should they be granted _mind_ when so many others live in ignorance? She brushed his worry aside with a branch full of small flowers. He thinks they look good on her).  
He hunts and skins animals, returns with bloody hands and a triumphant smile, she finds fruit and patches together leaves and skins and creates layers against the wind, and welcomes him with warm arms.  
But two people -smart people, but people still, nonetheless, it was how they are born (not what they are, but that does not matter now)- against Mother Nature are not enough. They die young, in a storm, struck by lightning. They crumple together beneath the shadow of a mighty tree amid the cheers of others that play with fire.

The next time they awake they are invincible. Power thrums through their veins, crackles around, drums at their fingertips begging to be released. They change the ether, shape the very fabric of the Universe (although it is not their place, but it is nice to have _control_ over others if not over yourself) and mould the world as they see fit.  
In this life they call them gods and he does not mind. For all they have suffered in their former life he will take it upon others. He is cruel, he knows, _she_ knows, but he does not mind. He is night and he is cold, he is the Moon that resides over their nightmares.  
She is not happy with his choices, of course. She was the best part of him, they had been one after all, so when he took, she gave. She gave warm winds and sprawling fields of green and colour, nurtured people as they raised their puny cities and citadels, as they dressed in rags and learned to cook their food. She is day and she is colour, she is the Sun that that lights the way.  
(They forgot to say that Moon was soothing and guided dreams and ideas and the seas at their feet, Sun was scorching and ruthless and brought droughts that killed thousands. But these truths were lost in time)  
In that life they do not meet. For all their power, they are tied together by only dusk and dawn (Red String of Fate, they said. What do people know about Fate? He would come to hate Fate). It is a lonely time for him, for no matter how heartless he could be his longing could not be kept at bay. So when he finally fades (castles in his eyes, clashing blades in his ears) he welcomes it with open arms just to fall into hers.

The first time they receive names (it marks them as finally being separate beings and he is mad, mad, mad, because they are _two_ and not _one_ ) he wields a silver blade that often finds its target in the throats of others- he denies taking pleasure in it, it is for a cause he says, even if it sounds like a lie even to himself. They call him Sasuke in this life and the name means nothing in particular to him, but he does not mind. He is a ninja meant to be wielded by another, he has no need for names. He follows orders, he kills, he gets his payment, nothing more, nothing less.  
But without fail, after every battle, he goes into his master's garden, and kneels before the grand cherry blossom tree (Sakura, it rustles. Its name is Sakura) and prays for every soul he has taken. Whether the tree hears and accepts his worded pleas he has no way to know.  
When he finally falls, red slipping through his fingers, he drags himself to the Cherry Blossom and lays against its trunks, the bark hard on his hands. Sasuke has no prayer for himself and he goes without a word. Finally, in the warm spring air, the flowers whisper quietly.  
(After, the tree soaks in his blood and grows, grows, grows, its flowers no longer pink, but fiery red and strong and they resist throughout the years. It's a perverse irony, Sasuke later thinks, that his death brought forth such beauty. He should have known, back then, whom was who. He was naive, he considers, Sasuke was still young. He forgives himself for his ignorance)

They always find each other between lives, in that white space, somewhere between one breath and another, just themselves and the shadowy figure in the corner of his eyes that he never quite seems to see (God, being, King, Fate, he is all, he is none, a cut in the existence of that small white world)  
The shadowy figure in the corner tells him, tells her, stories of whom they were, who they are going to be and how they shall end and he is on the brink of understanding the _meaning_ , but the being shoves them out of his small white world. He never quite seems to remember the stories, but he despairs _(he should)_

He opens his eyes and he is Sasuke. And he finds Sakura. Again and again and again.  
He can't remember when this had all started.

There is a world without a sun and Sasuke works behind a desk by candlelight. Meanwhile Sakura fights relentlessly against monsters, a rusty badge on her chest, and she bloodies her hands in his place. He handles a pen and signs the death of hundreds. The stupid crown on Sasuke's head feels all the more heavy.

Another time, three suns burn Sasuke's back, the floor swoons under his feet. His paws hurt terribly, the dead mouse in his mouth leaving trails of blood behind. He stumbles up the stairs of a townhouse and meows miserably. He falls asleep just as green eyes and pale hair come into his view. He dies softly, a small kiss pressed to his dry nose. It feels like coming home.

Once Sakura and Sasuke are married happily, they have kids and family and friends. He is happy and at peace (he silences the voices that whisper destinies). Then Sakura dies and he lives, only to die later, her murderer's white face under Sasuke's grip.

Once he tries to kill himself because he does not understand what he is anymore (half a soul, alone, bad. Without purpose). But then he has to listen to the shadowy figure's stories by himself and he is driven mad by Fate and Future. In that place between one thought and another he hears that One is Life and One is Death, because from a sea of souls they woke up first, the _honour_ is _theirs_.  
When he wakes up next, the story seared in his mind, he kills and kills and kills, rivers of blood running under his hands because it is his _right, he deserves this, he is_ destined _to do this_...  
In that life he bore the name of Uchiha and he ran away from his other half, from Sakura Haruno, born of spring and smiles and utterly oblivious to their origins and history (by killing himself previously she skipped a cycle, she has not heard the stories of the shadowy figure again, she is a drop of water in a pool of dark, dark memories). So he runs from her and Sasuke kills as he is meant to (was it supposed to be like this? Hadn't it always been like this? Right?)  
But Haruno Sakura comes back with healer hands and disarming glances and takes his tainted hands into her own and kisses them, accepts them and he chooses to forget about white worlds and shadowy figures. Sasuke is Sakura's and they are only two people who love each other (Right?)

In another life, Sasuke brings Sakura her brother's traitorous head home and she kisses his forehead. Sakura welcomes him with open arms and is the only one that smiles as the village executes him (there is a noose around his neck that scratches him unpleasantly, his feet are made of lead as they dangle above the dispersing crowd. Sasuke sees pink weaving throught the crowd and he wants to scream -at her, for her- but there is no air in his lungs for him to question why everything was so, were their lives always meant to end in bloodshed? They were just people. Right?- memories dance behind his eyelids before it all fades to white)

Each new life chips away at his sanity (at his memory).  
Sakura and Sasuke. People. No, enemies. Opposites. Or was it lovers?  
One is Life and One is Death, but they have already fulfilled their roles.  
Right?  
(they haven't even started)

Again and again and again.

It fades to white.

They hear stories.

And they understand.

and he combs her long tresses with his fingers. Her touch burns him, it has for a while. He is not sure how he feels to her, but the shadowy figure always seems to smirk when they touch so it can't be pleasant. But she doesn't flinch and neither does he. She disentangles slightly from him and skips around, her white silks dancing around her legs. He follows her with his dark eyes as she speaks.  
"What will you bring me today, my love?"  
The answer is immediate, rehearsed, prepared, for an eternity and before their beginning.  
"Anything. Everything. I shall belong to you and they will be yours to End. As always."  
Her eyes sparkle and she jumps on him, kisses him on the mouth. His heart is bursting, his blood boiling, the pressure builds behind his eyes because this is wrong, wrong, wrong. But he pushes on, kisses her back because he loves her.  
"Fine. Go. Live! Bring me the lives you so love" she pulls away with a huff  
(There are stories behind her words now)  
"As you wish"  
(There are stories behind his too)  
The shadowy figure in the corner laughs as it opens a cut and the small white world falls on itself and all fades.

One is Life. Him. The struggle of it. The hardship. The feeling of being left behind. And the small beauties you find throughout it. That's Life. That's him.  
One is Death. Her. The finality of it. The quietness. The remorse of leaving others behind. And the cruelty when it comes with a smile before its time. That's Death. That's her.  
They are two  
They are opposites  
They are lovers that should not be together, yet are despite their nature.  
But they have always been like this.  
Right?

Sasuke wakes up. The ground is soggy under his traveling cloak and the air crisp. The sun is barely rising over the treetops and he can't make out any noises besides the rustling of birds and the caress of the wind. He thinks of great oaks and of Konoha. Maybe he should visit soon, it has been a while, and see the green eyed medic he loves just so. See the lives she has saved and be filled with hope for a better future (for himself, for the souls he has taken while playing Grim Reaper. He thinks he deserves the title- _he does not, it's not his_ )  
He gets up and starts walking, guided by stories in his ears.

 **A/N**

 **This was supposed to be a Soulmate AU, but it sort of evolved into** ** _this_** **. I'm sorry. I started thinking about this because, as a couple, Sasuke who has killed** ** _a lot_** **is the opposite of Sakura that dedicated her life to saving others. And I thought to myself** ** _What can I write so that this pairing gets completely screwed up?_** **And** ** _this_** **came into being. I was also inspired by a picture (if I can I'll put it as a cover) but I give full credit to the artist (please don't kill me)**


End file.
